


Lanterns

by silverxsakura



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Beaches, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Little plot, M/M, Summer Heat, Summer break, boys being stupid, it's mostly about the heat, literally pure fluff, short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 18:39:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11236887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverxsakura/pseuds/silverxsakura
Summary: The heat was too much for Lance, with chafing cotton and sweat-soaked shirts and too much Keith he couldn't touch. He was part of the family, and Lance loved him. So sleeping beside him was definitely not good for his heart.





	Lanterns

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how American cities work this may as well be set in London (I'm sorry), but here's a short drawl of something cute, but probably entirely pointless. I've wasted too many self-revision lessons writing this, honestly, and end of years start tomorrow! Oh joy. Evading revision is my favourite pastime I swear down.
> 
> Highly recommended playlist: Tokyo Police Club (Forcefield) and Circa Waves (Young Chasers) ! Enjoy :)

The window above the bed was ajar, allowing a warm breeze to filter through. It provided little respite from the sweltering heat and humidity, but Lance enjoyed listening to the rustling of leaves and the passing of the occasional car on the road outside. It was dark out, and the display in his alarm clock read ten-past-two, but the room glowed a warm yellow from the string of coloured paper lanterns hanging from the windowsill.

  
Lance lay on top of his bed sheet stripped down to his boxers. His blankets and pillows had long since been kicked to the floor, and old worn comics littered the mattress at both head and foot. He shifted from his front to his side, skin chafing against cotton. He heard the scuffing of shoes down on the pavement below. It was too hot. Lance was restless.

Under the guise of getting himself a glass of water Lance pushed himself off his bed and headed downstairs. He padded across the hall, careful to avoid the creaking floorboards, and slipped into the kitchen. The tiled floor was amiably cool, and glinted orange in the light the bled through the window from the street lamps outside. Lance took a glass from the cabinet and went to the sink. He glanced through the open slats of the blinds and did a double-take, fumbling in his surprise.

A figure sat on the kerb in a pool of light with his back turned to Lance. In a black tank top and khaki shorts and his hair long enough that it could be tied back in a ponytail, _Keith_ was sitting on the road outside Lance’s house at half-two in the morning.

Abandoning the glass on the worktop, Lance snatched a bottled drink from the fridge and shorts from a kitchen stool–one of his siblings’, probably–and pulled them on. He darted down the hall and into the conservatory, unlocking the door and then closing it gently behind him as he stepped down onto the grass. A metal hanging ornament creaked ominously. A single candle in a hurricane lantern on the patio was quietly burning itself out. The bushes rustled, fluttering their leaves and making shadows dance in hypnotic waves, sending shivers down Lance’s spine. He headed to the passage at the side of the house and flipped the catch on the garden gate. He tread as lightly and as quietly as possible over the gravel before hauling himself over the bars of the padlocked front gate and walking across the drive to stand behind Keith.

“What brings you here at stupid o’clock in the morning?” Lance asked, tapping his shoulder with the bottle. Keith started, jumping away from the cold glass. He quickly tried to school his expression to one more collected and relaxed his suddenly tense muscles. “Scaredy cat.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Keith mumbled, hiding his mouth behind his drawn-up knees and curling his arms around them. Lance settled himself to his friend’s right.

“So, you just magically ended up here, huh?” Lance was fishing for it, he’d admit that, but only partly.

Keith sighed and buried himself further into his knees. “I went for a walk, and while I was thinking, wondering if you were awake or something, I accidentally found myself here, but it was already so late.” He paused. “Happy?” Lance hummed, smirking. “Good.” Keith finished definitively, and stretched out his legs again, kicking at the tarmac. He picked up the bottle Lance had put down and squinted at the label.

“It’s good,” Lance said, taking it and uncapping it with a loud _pop_ , “try it.”

“But chocolate milk?” Keith asked, taking a sip when Lance handed it back. He wrinkled his nose a little. “Sweet.”

“Anything else?”

“Didn’t say it was bad.” He said, setting it down between them. “What happened to your clothes, anyway?” Keith frowned a little at the distinct lack.

“I was wearing even less a few minutes ago,” Lance teased. Keith looked at the floor.

“What, pretty boy sad he missed the show? Hey princess. I’m joking. Anyone would be sad to be told they missed this masterpiece.” He picked up the milk and gulped some down before handing it back over. “ ’s anyone even know you’re here?”

“I’ll text my brother later.” Keith said.

The two sat for about another half hour in near-silence, passing the bottle back and forth between them, listening to the scrape of ridged glass against concrete ring down the street. They revelled in each draft of air that tugged at their clothes and hair, and watched every car that rumbled past until it had driven out of sight. Lance was thinking that maybe he was tired enough to sleep when Keith sighed and dropped his head onto his, Lance’s, shoulder.

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Did something happen?” Lance asked, absently bringing his hand up to run his fingers through Keith’s hair as if he were comforting his brothers, Alex or little Jamie, instead.

“No,” he groaned into Lance’s collar, “I just…”

Suddenly Lance was very aware of himself and Keith’s too-hot breathing on his sweaty skin.

“Come on then.” He found Keith’s wrist and pulled him up to standing. His eyes fluttered open and he smirked up knowingly at Lance.

“We taking the back entrance then? Class, real class that is.”

“You up for a stealth run?”

“Of course, you nerd.”

The two boys climbed the gate, cringing when Keith landed a little too heavily on the gravel. Lance regretted not bothering to put on shoes. They stole across the garden and into the conservatory, where Keith kicked off his beaten red canvas trainers and followed Lance down the hall and up the stairs. It was only when they had closed Lance’s bedroom door behind them that they both exhaled a long breath and, locking eyes, promptly burst into fits of muffled laughter.

While Keith dug around for his phone Lance gathered up the comics and stacked them on the sill. The heat and humidity clung to him, even when he stuck his head out of the window. He shucked his shorts and flung them onto his desk chair.

“Whoa there, young stud,” Keith joked, sliding his phone onto Lance’s little bedside table and tugging off his own. 

> [to: Shiro] With Lance
> 
> [from: Shiro] ;)

Ignoring the fact that Shiro was apparently awake at quarter-past-three in the morning, Lance picked up Keith'’s phone and switched to the camera, snapping a few (waist-up) pictures of shirtless and frankly unimpressed Keith before a couple of flawless (of course) selfies.

“Don’t say anything stupid if you post something,” Keith murmured, dropping down onto the bed beside him.

Lance mocked deep emotional pain. “When have I ever? And don’t stick so close, you’re too hot.” He took another, of them smiling together (or in Keith’s case: almost smiling), and posted them all. He handed Keith back his phone and they lay back, facing each other, in the glow of the lanterns.

Lance didn't know where to look anymore. Even thinking about Keith, mostly naked, lying on his bed with him was a probably a dangerous thought, and he was quite sure that he was several times hotter than he was an hour ago.Keith smiled faintly and closed his eyes.

“Want me to turn them off?” Lance whispered.

“The lights?” Keith said, “No, I like ‘em. Means I can see you.”

“That defeats the point of sleeping, idiot.” Lance looked at him incredulously. Keith snorted and his eyelashes fluttered.

“Picky.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Lance! Sonja! Keith! James!” Lance’s mother called up the stairs. “Breakfast!”

Keith shifted on the bed and sighed. “She knows already?” He mumbled, not opening his eyes.

“She came in earlier while I pretended to be asleep.” Lance grinned.

“So you’ve been watching me for longer than the five minutes I’ve been awake.”

“If you’re awake then _say_ something!” He clapped his hands to his face and rolled onto his back.

“I just did.”

“ _Dios mío_ , Keith.”

“Mama, where are my shorts?” Sonja shouted from the landing above. Lance removed his hands and looked back at Keith, who was not only watching him but full-on grinning.

“In Lance’s room, sweetheart; go and get them out of bed for me will you?”

“Mama always knows what’s up.” Keith said and closed his eyes again. Sonja flung open the bedroom door and stood in the entrance to scan through the clothes and blankets discarded on the floor.

“What were you doing with my clothes, Lance? Didn’t I tell you to stop nicking them behind my back?” She asked in a voice much too loud for morning, tying her black curls up into a bun.

Lance propped himself up on his elbows to frown at her. “What exactly does it look like I was doing? And anyway your hair’s a trainwreck and, bloody hell, put on some clothes!”

“You have my clothes, moron, and,” she wrinkled her nose, “it looks like the both of you just had sex, if you really want to know.” She stalked over to her desk and picked up her shorts and several other things, shaking them out. Keith snorted much too loudly.

“Well I _sure_ didn’t ask to be harassed by a woman in only her underwear first thing in the morning, did I?” Lance protested, kicking Keith pointedly in the abdomen as he climbed over him and off of the bed. Keith laughed harder, rolling onto his back and letting his arm hang off the bedside.

“Morning, hot stuff,” Sonja said to Keith, kicking her brother in the shin as he passed.

“Morning,” he drew out with a wink. “At least someone appreciates me around here.”

“I appreciate you plenty,” Lance rebuked, “now, out! _Out_ , Sonja! And you get your ass up, mister.” He shut the door on Sonja and threw a shirt that happened to land on Keith’s face.

“Is this yours?”

“Yours smells like shit.”

“You were smelling my clothes?”

“For sweat, yes, because I’m not talking to you if you smell like that.”

“Pervert. But I did walk, like, three miles last night.” Keith pulled on the grey tank. “In the heat.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m worth it,” Lance said, pulling on a white tee and a pair of (his own) shorts. “Food?”

“Food.” Keith agreed, and followed him downstairs to the kitchen, leaving the milk bottle on Lance’s bedside table.

The smell of frying filled the house–eggs, toast, bacon: the works. Ella McClain stood leaning on the worktop next to the hob watching Sonja and not-so-little little Jamie eating at the bar. Lance’s unused glass had been replaced in the cupboard.

“Morning boys, sleep well?” She smiled and started serving two more plates.

“Yes, thank you,” Keith said, “uh, and sorry for, uh…”

Ella laughed. “No, not at all, as long as you keep my son in check.” She gestured for him to sit.

“Coffee?” Lance asked, already reaching for the mugs, as Ella set their plates on the counter.

“Thank you.” Keith smiled. “Yes please.”

“Hot chocolate, Lance.” Jamie called through a mouthful of beans.

“So Keith, are you joining us today? We’re heading to the beach.” Ella asked, sitting down at the end of the bar. Lance came to sit opposite him, sliding mugs along the bench.

Keith looked between them. “Only if you’re okay with that, I mean, like, isn’t it supposed to be a family day?” Sonja laughed.

“You’re a part of it too, you know. You’re always welcome, even if Lance doesn’t say so.” She brandished the sausage on the end of her fork at him before biting into it.

So after several courses of breakfast the five of them piled into the black Seat on the drive with plenty of food and towels and sunscreen. Jamie brought his camera with him and happily yammered on about settings and exposure and whatnot for an hour in the passenger seat. Lance in the back middle commandeered the aux cord, and happily sat singing with Sonja to his left.

When they turned onto the country roads, Keith rolled down his window and stuck his head directly into the wind to watch the trees and and fields and stone-built villages flash by. And Lance stared. Lance knew he was, but if Keith did he didn’t show it, rather closing his eyes, bathed in the sunlight.

When Lance suddenly asked Jamie to take a picture of them in the back he pulled the others into him by the shoulders, grinning as he watched his little brother giggle behind the lens.

“ _Jamie_ ,” Sonja sang, “Jimmy boy, James, darling, are you going to print those out for the albums? Because I want copies of all the ones where Lance looks stupid. Oh, and all the ones with Keith of course.”

“So, all Lance’s photos? Or the especially stupid ones? And we all know what he wants.” Jamie said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder.

“Take some good ones of all the pretty girls, dear baby brother.”

“Get your own camera.”

Lance gasped, clutching at his heart. “You mean you don’t want them too?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No, not really.” Jamie huffed. Sonja and Lance looked at each other and then back at Jamie.

“Sounds gay.”

“Definitely gay.”

Keith elbowed Lance in the side.

“Now now, children.”

Lance held his hands up in surrender. “Oh, on his side now, are we? The boy that likes my brother more than me. I know, you should go share his bed instead, if that’s how it is.”

“ _Ew_ , no,” Jamie whined from the front.

Ella and Sonja chorused laughter, Lance shrieking over them.

“Rejection!” He yelled and covered his mouth in mocking. Keith, rightfully, punched his arm. “Ow! Hey! I didn’t reject you! This is abuse, I tell you–”

“Look, the sea!” Jamie interrupted with a shout. Sure enough, the bay below them glistened in nostalgic blues and greens, and boasted tiny yachts like pale freckles. The town spindled out into the yellowish hills of the countryside. By the time they'd turned onto the coastal road on the cliffs all five were singing along to all the summer songs that Lance could find to play. Seat belts burned comfortably against skin and bracelets and flowing hair gleamed in the light. All the windows were down for the wind to rip at their t-shirts and flush their cheeks.

Keith didn’t really know what people usually did at the beach. He spent most of his time eating ice cream and playing chase with the kids in the waves and flashing peace signs to way too many photos, even if he didn’t smile in them. At some point the boys had lost their shirts (now lying in a heap under the parasol). Lance was helping a group of little girls build a ‘sand spaceship’ and Sonja had a shrieking Jamie thrown over one shoulder. The sun was peacefully blinding and familiar in the easiest way to Lance, as were the town and the ridges of sand and the stones on the beach. So when he threw himself down next to Keith, an achingly familiar presence in a completely different way, he couldn’t force down the grin that he had plastered to his face.

They sat underneath the redundant parasol watching the waves fold onto the beach. The sun had already begun to set somewhere off to their left.

“Mama took the others up to the shop on the cliff.” Lance said.

“You alright no going?”

“Yeah. I'm okay.”

A moment of quiet passed between them. The sea breeze picked up the scarf Ella had tied to a bag and it rippled like a flag.

“I wish I could just never go home,” Keith started. “Just… stay here like this forever.” Children splashed through the water in front of them, racing after a little white jack russel. Their shrieks of laughter were muffled by the breaking waves.

“I like you.” Lanc blurted out. There was another minute or so of quiet until Keith snorted and burst out laughing, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. Lance hovered, unsure of whether to sink onto the floor or bolt.

“And I’m supposed to be the impulsive one,” he snickered. “That is so _you_.” He reached over, ignoring the way Lance jolted backwards, and hooked his arms around his neck, leaning back until they were lying nose-to-nose on the towels, Lance hovering over him. “Don’t tell me you’re scared,” he hummed.

“Terrified,” Lance managed, quite honest, before Keith pressed their lips hastily together. It wasn’t much, but it was slow and deliberate and long, long overdue. His warmth fanned over Lance’s face, and suddenly he forgot the strain on his wrists under his body weight.

“You finally said it.” Keith mumbled as he pulled back. Lance gazed at him in slight shock.

“So does you’d be okay with dating, or I mean, you like me? And that you, like, knew this entire time?”

“Well I was mostly in the same boat.” Keith admitted, frowning. “We still managed to miss each other, but I guess that’s just how we roll.” He brushed hair from Lance’s forehead and pecked the corner of his lips. “You don’t call me a stubborn asshole for nothing.”

“Never say ‘how we roll’ ever again.”

  
The drive back seemed much shorter than the outward journey, and was considerably quieter. Jamie slept in the back next to Lance with his mouth hanging open, not even disturbed by the most jarring of movements. Sonja talked quietly with her mother about her chemistry project.

They kept the windows down to cool the humid summer aid and searing leather upholstery. Keith had rested his head on the window frame and kept his eyes closed, but hooked his fingers around Lance’s on his knee, infrequently rubbing random circles against his skin with his thumb. Lance watched the sun finally sink below the glowing wheat fields, lining the clouds with pink and orange.

Ella brought Keith back to the house and made sure he ate well with no questions asked–he realised that rowdy family meals were possibly his favourite meals, even if the siblings were then too burned out to banter so much.

Keith and Lance sat on the garden wall after dark. A few stars persevered in the evening sky, flickering happily despite the lights of the suburbs. Between them they finished another of the milk bottles over laughter and jokes and kisses and glancing touches. When they were done they rinsed it out and grinned to each other as they shut the door to the bedroom. The next day, when they finally rolled out of bed, they would find several new photos tacked to the cork board on the wall, and not-so-secretly high-five a cackling Jamie, but in the almost-unbearable heat they collapsed on the bed, leaving the bottle next to the first on their little bedside table in the room with the coloured paper lanterns.


End file.
